


The things we do for her

by Downtherabbithole850



Category: Homeland
Genre: Canon Divergence, Excessive Swearing, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Season 8, Spoilers, Spoilers for Season 8, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29318460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downtherabbithole850/pseuds/Downtherabbithole850
Summary: What if Yevgeny arrived 30 seconds later at the Taliban’s compound and wasn’t able to stop Carrie in time?An alternative version of the events at the end of episode 7, and a study of the unexpected triangle of characters that emerges from it.SPOILERS IN THE NOTESCOMPLETED
Relationships: Carrie Mathison/Max, Carrie Mathison/Yevgeny Gromov, Yevgeny Gromov/Carrie Mathison
Comments: 30
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know why I felt the urge to write this since I wasn't too upset about Max's death (does that make me a terrible person?) but here it is: the alternative version of episodes 7-8 where Carrie and Yevgeny can hug each other without Max needing to ***.  
> More seriously, this is more about “It’s always the mission” Carrie and the relentlessly patient and dedicated men who gravitate around her.

For one second he’s pretty sure he’s dead, surrounded by bursts of Kalashnikovs, and the next thing he knows, a deadly silence has fallen, hands are frantically wandering on his body, and a familiar voice is calling his name, bordering on hysteria.

“Oh my God, Max, Max, you’re alright ? Oh thank God, thank God...”

Carrie.

He has never been so happy to see her, even though his vision is blurred and he can only feel her hair sweeping across his face.

Rapid footsteps are approaching and a male voice with a foreign accent pops up, out of breath and frantic :

“Carrie, what the fuck was that ? Are you hurt? Hey, look at me, are you ok ? Let me check.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine, what about you? Are you ok? what happened ?”, she asks him, like she was trying to shake herself up from a dream.

“You almost got us all killed, that’s what happened.”, the man snaps at her.

Carrie doesn’t reply and he goes on :

“And now we need to get the fuck out of here, right now, before someone finds out what happened and we end up with an army of Talibans on our heels. We have to bring the cars here.”

Orders are then shouted and from the language he recognizes, he wonders for a fleeting moment if he has not fallen into Russians’clutches, after the Talibans’ ones.

“How is he ?” The voice is now closer and it takes him a few seconds to understand that he is the subject of the question.

“I don’t know... He’s burning hot but I think he is conscious at least.”

“Max, can you hear me ?”, Carrie asks gently.

“Can you open your eyes or squeeze my hand to let us know you’re conscious ?”

He manages to open his eyes again and this time, his vision is better. He can clearly see her, leaning over, trying to hide her worry behind a tender smile and he has to blink several times to make sure she is real. She never smiled at him like that before, and she could as well be an angel in heaven.

“Carrie... You found me... he ends up mumbling. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“Yeah... I’m glad to see you, too, Max...” She strokes his cheek gently, as her features slowly crumple.

“Don’t cry, Carrie.” He can’t stand to see her cry. He never could.

“I don’t”, she lies, then turns around and whispers to her companion :

“Do we have antibiotics in the car?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, we have antibiotics and an entire first aid kit. He will be fine. Just stay with him and keep him awake. I’ll get the bodies out of sight.”

The man’s voice is now warm and soothing, as if he wanted to reassure her and he finds it deeply disturbing to hear someone he doesn’t know speaking to Carrie with such familiarity. He is the one who is supposed to take care of her after all. He had made a promise to himself that he would, a long time ago.

He turns his head to the left, trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger who is getting on his feet, and what he finds out is so inconceivable that he grabs Carrie’s arm feverishly, drawing her to him.

“Carrie... tell me ...I need to know ... Is that a side-effect of the fever or is the man you just talked to Yevgeny Gromov ?”

“No, that’s him.” she says matter-of-factly, shrugging carelessly.

It doesn’t seem to worry her in the least and he is horrified.

“But...Carrie, what the hell is Yevgeny Gromov doing here?”, he hissed, while trying to get up on his elbow.

”Hey, hey, you need to calm down. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but later. You don’t have to worry about him. He is on our side.”

“On our side ?” Is she completely delusional ?

“Or we are on his side! And we don’t know it yet! Are you out of your mind?”

“Please, not you too, Max. Don’t lecture me. He helped me find you. That was the only way. And he has just risked his life and his men’s to save you. You should be grateful.”

“Yevgeny Gromov was the only way? What the fuck Carrie? Don’t you remember what he has done to you? He's lucky that I'm not in better shape or I’d go punch him in the face!”

“Sshh... not so loud! ”

“Does he know about the black box?”

“No, of course not, he musn’t know !”

“And... what did Saul say ? Did he send a team to retrieve it?

“Not yet, I’ll tell Saul about the box as soon as we are back in Kabul. Everything is under control. You just need to rest and focus on getting better, ok? I’ll take care of Yevgeny Gromov.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there any Max/Yevgeny shippers out there? If so, this chapter is for you !
> 
> Nah, just kidding.

He had known he was screwed the second she had asked him for his gun. She was standing in front of him, frail and tense in her blue shirt, her hair ruffled by the wind. She was there, an unshakeable resolve in her eyes, and he hadn’t been able to say no to her. It had been only a few seconds after she had left that he had realised his mistake and rushed after her with his men.

And now, here he is, cleaning up her mess, still incredulous at what just happened. Jesus Christ, she bursted alone into the Talibans’ lair like it was nothing, with only a handgun to defend herself. His mood oscillates between rage, toward himself more than her, and the anguish of having almost lost her. He can’t imagine what would have happened, had he arrived only 10 seconds later...

How can she so carelessly put her life on the line? There is something wrong with her, something deeply broken.

Ever since she came to ask for his help in Kabul, he has the feeling that she is running away, desperately, like she had nothing left to lose, like she was playing her last card.

Yet, even alone, cast aside by her own people, she still burns with an inextinguishable flame, driven by an absolute faith in what she has to do.

And, probably because he can easily relate to that, he can’t help feeling for her.

Is it so wrong that he wants to be there for her? That he wants to protect her from the dangers she puts herself through? If he looks at things from a purely professional point of view, she is a potential asset, after all, _his_ asset, and a very valuable one. 

Things would be much more simple if it were all about that, but she obviously is more than just an asset, and judging by what has just happened, he is probably already too far gone to pretend otherwise.

  
His phone vibrates in his pocket. An encrypted call from overseas. Most likely Saul. A little bit late to the party.

He puts back the Taliban’s body he was carrying on the ground and heads towards Carrie, who is still sitting next to Max in theyard.

“Saul.” He just says, handing her the phone.

“Ok. Can you stay with Max for a minute?” she bends over her friend, and he hears her whispering: “Be nice to him, okay?”

He's not sure to know why that guy wouldn't be nice to him, given that he just saved him, but as soon as Carrie leaves, he understands.

Max is just staring angrily at him and this is fucking annoying. He has no desire to engage the conversation so he just stands besides him, arms crossed on his chest. 

“I know who you are.”, Max finally declares after a while like it’s the fucking news of the week.

He slowly nods, eyebrows up in feignedastonishment.

“Yeah... well, I know who I am, too.”

“I know what you did. To Carrie.”

“Oh. And what would you know about that?”

“I know you took her meds away from her. I know you tortured her and then left her to rot in an asylum for months...

"You’re pretty chatty for a dying man...”, he cuts him off, crouching next to him, a wry smile on his lips.

“We don't know each other, my friend. But let me tell you one thing: don't be so sure of what you think you know or heard, because you'd be surprised to see that more often than not, things are not what they seem... Just a matter of perspective.”

“I know she was completely out of her mind when she was released and I know she hasn’t fully recovered yet so I don't know what you told her or asked her in exchange for my rescue, but I swear that if you try to screw her over...”

“What makes you think I asked for anything in return ?”

“I know how it works, and I know she is capable of anything to get her ways. I won’t be the cause of her downfall. Tell me what your price is and I’ll double it.”

He laughs. This Max is funny. Almost touching. What men do for Carrie Mathison... Including him.

“Relax. There is no deal, my friend. I’m just paying my debt here.”

“I don’t believe you. I know who you are.”

“Yeah... you said that before. And you know, I have no problem being the villain of the story if you need to play the good guy but do not forget that you are the one who put her in that position in the first place, by letting them catch you. And that _I_ happen to be the one who is helping her... because of all the Americans who have been occupying Afghanistan for 20 years, none of them were apparently willing to lift a finger for you...”

“I don't care what will become of me, but if you hurt her, I swear you will pay. She has dealt with enough shit in her life and she doesn't know what's good or bad for her. Shethinks she can handle everything on her own but she always ends up hurting herself...”

“You think I don't know that? She just tried to storm that place all by herself to save you and if I hadn't stepped in you would both be dead by now. Do you think I did it for you? Consider yourself lucky that she seems to really care for you, and, believe it or not, that I do care for her, too, cause if it were up to me, I would just leave you there. See?

And now, I suggest you relax, cause I don't think Carrie would be too happy, to have done all this for nothing... if anything should happen to you... and we don't want Carrie to be upset, do we?"

“Yevgeny!”

Carrie storms in, loud and frantic. God she is always so intense. He notices for the first time that her right knee is dripping with blood and he opens his mouth to let her know about it but she grabs his arm and drags him away from Max.

“Saul is willing to send an exfiltration team, but he can’t give the green light until we send our exact coordinates. The problem is, they won't move once it gets dark, which means in two hours.. So we have to move fast... Oh, and the meeting point must be less than 5 miles from the Afghan border, on an open ground.”

“That's a lot of conditions. Can't they make an effort? We've already done half their job. In any case we won’t go far enough from here in 2 hours and the border is full of armed factions and informants. We can’t risk spending the night there. What we should do is find a location to hide for the night then reach a meeting point early in the morning.”

“But... I don’t even know if he’ll still be alive in the morning!”

Once again, that determined look, tinged with despair. Her hand is still clutching his arm and her lips are quivering.

“Carrie...”, he sighs. 

She is on the verge of tears and at that moment, there is nothing he wants more than to hold her and ... Damn it... Why does he always have to worry so much about her? He shouldn’t - he can’t - let her get through him again.

He pulls himself together and eventually puts his hands on her shoulders to get her attention.

"Look, whatever can be done, I will do it, as long as it doesn't jeopardize our safety. I won't let you down, okay? Have I, so far ? But from now on, we'll do things my way, you understand?”

She slightly nods her head while biting her lips. She looks a bit relieved and he can suddenly breath again.

"My guys are coming with the cars. I'll brief them about the plan. Get ready to go.”

“Oh, by the way...” he adds, gesturing at Max before leaving the yard...

“...he wasn’t very nice.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay !  
> Here is chapter 3 AKA “a Max, a Carrie and a Yevgeny are in a car...”

“Fuck ! Can’t you just slow down?, she curses, while trying to get back into the right position.

“How am I supposed to give him his injection if I’m jumping up in the air every 10 seconds!”

“I am not responsible for the state of the Pakistani roads and I thought we were in a hurry!” Yevgeny shouts back at her from the front of the car.

For the third time, she tries to put her attention on the needle and ends up properly injecting the antibiotics in Max’s back.

She is striving to keep her cool but his wound doesn’t look good and she feels antsy and nauseous, kneeled on the floor of the car, surrounded with bloodied compresses. There is so much blood. On her hands. Everywhere. 

It doesn't help that Max is delirious from the fever and has suddenly felt the urge to talk to her as if it were the last time.

“...Carrie, I did not thank you for looking after me... I want to thank you before... if anything happens...”

"No, you’ll thank me when you’ll be in Landstuhle. I’ll probably be sent back there with you anyway... so we can have a lot of fun together, don't you think?” she says, forcing herself to deliver a reassuring smile.

“But, Carrie, what are you doing with... the Russian? What did you promise him, Carrie? Please don't do this... I'd rather die than know that you compromised yourself because of me...”.

“There is nothing, Max, I swear, you don’t have to worry about it. He didn’t ask anything.

“But he will... he will... that’s what he does...”

“Max, stop that ! You really need to rest, now. Everything is under control.” , she reassures him, hoping that her voice doesn’t sound too strained, because for a split second, she has a very clear vision of what she is doing here - going rogue with an enemy officer - and where all this could take her ultimately. And it doesn’t look good. It doesn’t look good at all. She is walking on a thin line here and it feels like she could fall to one side or the other at any moment. But isn’t it already too late to backtrack ?

“But Carrie, that’s what you always say before everything turns to shit...Have you forgotten who he is ? The plot against the President, Lucasville, Dante Allen, that’s him... you lost Franny because of that...and then...”

“Can't you just give him something to shut him up?, Yevgeny cuts him off, on edge. "I have some Ambien in my bag if you want.”

“I'm trying!”, she shouts back, infuriated. 

“Yeah, I'm trying to be patient too, but I've got more pressing things to deal with than being lectured by the guy I'm trying to get out of this mess...”

Why does he have to make it worse? As if it wasn't already fucking uncomfortable to be stuck in that car in an hostile zone with a delirious Max who can't help himself being overly dramatic and not an ounce of air to breathe ? It's so fucking hot in there that her shirt is sticking to her skin, soaked in sweat.

“Max, look, you really need to keep quiet. Jeez, I never knew you were able to talk so much.”

But he doesn't seem to be willing to comply and he resumes his rant, taking her hand feverishly.

“This is all my fault Carrie ... I am sorry ... I should have done better. I shouldn’t have let them catch me.”

“What are you talking about, you did great, Max...”

”... I should have stopped you from going to Kabul in the first place. It was too dangerous and you were not ready for that. I told Saul not to send you there but he didn’t want to listen...”

“Max, you’re not responsible for me. Neither is Saul. I make my own decisions, whether they’re bad or good. Whether you like it or not. Do you understand? And I’m perfectly fine, you don’t have to worry about me...I am much more concerned about you right now...

“No Carrie... you’re not fine... you are running around with the man who tortured you for months ? Carrie, you know you can’t do that. You’re not thinking clearly. You really need someone to take care of you.”

She doesn’t know what to say, something has just collapsed in her and when she manages to speak again her voice her voice sounds hoarse and broken.

“Why, you think... you think you’re the one who has to take care of me ?”

“Who else, Carrie?”

“But, Max I am the one who sent you on the field. I was the one supposed to take care of you...

Hot tears are running down her face, although she couldn’t really pinpoint why she suddenly feels so lost and empty. Her hands are shaking and  there is so much blood on her hands.

“And, Carrie... we never got to talk about Quinn... 

“Don’t fucking talk about Quinn, Max, not now...”, she begs him, sweeping her tears with the back of her hand.

_ Stay down. _

”... he would’ve wanted me to watch your back... he loved you. He never really said it to me but I know. And I know he would have wanted you to know, Carrie. So I’m telling you now Carrie.”

“No, no, Max, please... Please don’t...” 

_Do what I say, Carrie_.

“...I never got to tell Fara...you know... because she died... she died... Quinn died too..

Will he ever stop talking ?

_His name was Peter Quinn_.

She is hyperventilating.

Not that. Not now . She needs some air. She needs to get out of here.

“They are gone ... all gone...”

“Just shut the fuck up, Max!" She finally explodes, and throws herself against the door but it's locked, so she tries the window but she can't find anything to open it either...

“Carrie, what the f...” The car swerves sharply to the right and stops abruptly on the side of the road. The doors unlock and she rushes out in a frenzy.

She hears Yevgeny calling her from behind and she gestures for him to stay away from her.

She just needs to get as far away from that car as possible and she starts running straight ahead through rocks and dust, until her legs start wobbling and she is forced to crouch down and put both her hands on the ground to get steady.

She knows how to control this. She learned it in Germany. She needs to freed her mind from these damn images that keep on assaulting her. She can't let them get to her. She cannot give in to the darkness. She just has to focus on her breath, on real things around her... oddly shaped yellow stones, scattered tufts of dry grass, tiny, frail blue flowers, dancing in the breeze and sand... billions of grains of sand slipping through her fingers.

For a moment her mind floats in a state of contemplation, out of time and space. 

And when she feels a slight pressure on her back and then slow circular movements, she doesn't try to analyse it. She simply clings to it, like a rope that brings her back to the surface.

And a few seconds later, her senses opens up again to the world and a bottle of water is presented before her eyes. Her throat is so dry it hurts, so she grabs it and takes a few sips, feeling life coming back into her.

It isn’t until she turned her head to return the bottle that she realized how close Yevgeny’s face is to hers.

He is crouched beside her, one of his hand still lingering on her shoulder, firm and comforting and being so close from him, she can feel her pulse suddenly racing out of control again.

He doesn’t take his eyes off her, grave and silent.

He doesn’t say anything, like he doesn’t need to. Like he knows already what is going on down there, in the depths of her soul.

He is patiently waiting for her to pull herself together.

Would it be so wrong to give in to the comfort he was offering her ? She would only have to lean her head on his shoulder, pass her arm around his neck and nestle into his arms, melt into him...fuck... Saul is right, she is vulnerable to him, certainly more than she would like to admit, and this has to stop now, before it backfires, as it always does.

She stands up abruptly, probably too fast, because her head is suddenly spinning and he has to hold her against him to stabilize her, so that she doesn’t fall back to the ground.

She leans on him for a few seconds to collect herself, then let go of him with an impatient gesture.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🤔 Hhmmm ... summary .... 🥁🥁🥁 *Carrie & Yevgeny, ladies and gentlemen !* 🥳🥳🥳

It is late in the night when Max falls asleep in the backseat of the car. After a few hours drive they eventually landed in a relatively safe location for the night. The adrenaline that has been keeping her awake until now is fading fast and she feels sore and worn out. She is keeping herself busy by putting the med kit back in order in the trunk of the car when Yevgeny's voice catches her off guard.

“How is he doing?”

“He fell asleep. And the fever is down, which is good news. I think we stopped the infection in time. But I don't know how much longer he can hold out before he gets proper care.”

“Any news from Saul?”

“The special ops team is ready to take off early in the morning but now Saul is waiting for the green light from Pakistanis authorities which is not too easy, apparently...”

She bites her lips nervously and shakes her head, trying not to think about the thousands of things that could go wrong in the next hours.

"What about you ?” he asks gently, slightly lowering his head to her level.

“Me ?”

“How do you feel ?”, he clarifies.

His eyes wander on her face with concern and she suddenly feels like a fragile little thing that has to be preserved from any violent emotions. He is probably alluding to her panic attack, and a vague feeling of shame creeps into her. The last thing she needs right now is to dwell on her state of mind so she gives him a weak _okay_ , shrugging her shoulders, and deflects the question.

“You really should leave with your men... It’s not safe for you to be with us now that you got involved with the Talibans. And you’ve already done so much... If you could leave me the car and a gun... I'll be fine...”

He lets out a brief snort and shakes his head.

“Yeah... you’ll be fine...”, he smirks. “I’m not leaving you here alone, Carrie. Are you kidding me ?”

He seems to want to stick to his chivalrous pose, and although she is hardly the figure of the damsel in distress, she must admit that since the beginning of their journey together, it has been incredibly comforting to lean on him. To give in to the illusion that she doesn't have to handle everything on her own, for once, that she is sometimes allowed to share some of her burden with someone else. Even if that someone else is precisely the one she shouldn't rely on so completely...

She has no desire to delve deeper into his motivations, so she lets herself collapse on the edge of the trunk with a sigh, her mind suddenly blank.

“You should get that cleaned up.”

“What?”, she looks up at him, confused.

“Your knee... Let me see.”

She hasn't paid much attention to it so far, even though her jeans are stained with half-dry blood. She must have fallen on something sharp during her little stunt and now that he mentions it, it does hurt a bit.

She mechanically grabs the med kit and passes it to him. He takes the scissors and kneels before her in silence. She is so tired she can’t even think about anything to say, so she just enjoys the stillness of the night, and lets him take care of her.

“What you did today... It was incredibly stupid”, he declares after a while, cutting her jeans to uncover the wound.

“I know.” That was stupid and there's nothing else to say.

“Do you realise you put everyone’s life at risk? Including yours? What were you thinking, Carrie? Is your life so unworthy that it can be sacrificed to save another one? Do you sometimes think about the people who care for you? Who will grieve for you when you’re gone?”

“I know... I don’t know what I thought” she says, shaking her head. “Actually I didn’t think at all. I was just ... in the moment. I was convinced they were about to kill him and I couldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t lose another one...” She pauses, her voice stuck in her throat all of a sudden.

“It's just a fucking miracle that we're all safe.” He puts his focus back on her knee and cleans up carefully the dried blood with a compress.

He is angry and he has every right to be. Yet, there is something else that shows through his words, a warmth, a worry. His worry for her. And she doesn’t know what to do with that information, except that she is suddenly aware of his presence, of his hands on her, gentle and cautious.

“There was no miracle”, she says, tentatively. “You stepped in ... You said you wouldn’t. Why did you change your mind ?”

He sighs heavily.

“Just keep quiet, Carrie, and give me more light”.

She watches him bandaging her knee, while his words slowly dawn on her. She doesn’t want to think about what could have happened because of her but the images keep coming in her head. What was she thinking indeed ? She had completely misread the situation and reacted in the most reckless way. What is wrong with her? She can still hear the sound of the bullets whistling all around her. She had fired back in a total blur, not even knowing if her bullets were hitting their target. She hadn’t really realized what was happening until a dozen dead Talibans were lying on the ground and she had rushed at Max, convinced that it was already too late.

And, just like that, she had done it again.

_ She used to put people’s life at risk, until she got caught at her own game_ , that would be a perfect epitaph.

“Hey, does it hurt so much? Do you need some painkillers?”, he asks, looking up at her, confused, and it takes her a few seconds to realise that big tears are running down her cheeks.

If he knew, that physical pain was such a welcome diversion from her relentless fucking thoughts... She wouldn't want to trade it for any painkillers in the world.

“No... no... It’s just... what you said...” she mumbles, sweeping hastily her tears away with the back of her hand.

“I've upset you,” he says, in a low, cautious voice. Her hand is clenching nervously on her thigh and he grasps it carefully, slowly clasping his fingers around hers, stopping them from shaking.

Looking down at his hand covering hers entirely, she finds herself overwhelmed by a vague, undefinable longing.

“No, it's not your fault... It is mine. I am the problem. Max is right, I can't think straight anymore... I mean, look at me! No one trusts me anymore and maybe they're right because to be honest, I'm not sure I can trust myself either. Look at where I am. Running around with you. And why am I even talking to you about this? To you, out of everyone! This is so fucked up!”

“No, look. You were right to come to me for help. We found Max. He's alive. And by this time tomorrow, you'll both be back in Kabul. Isn't that what you wanted? Have you had any reason to complain about the service so far?”

“No... I haven’t...”, she admits, smiling weakly through her tears. “You saved my life ... and Max’s... and it means a lot ... it means a lot to me...,” her voice breaks again, as she realizes the risks he took for her as opposed to what her side did - or rather did _not_ do. In fact they didn’t do anything at all, they were more than reluctant to launch an attack on the compound and even now, she is not sure she will see the rescue team show up in the sky anytime soon. Not to mention their eagerness to lecture her for the way she is running things, to make her understand how unworthy she is of their trust.

And _that_ hurts.

Why can't they see that she's just trying to do the right thing? Since when did the rescue of one of their own became a matter of debate? 

She briefly closes her eyes, trying to shake herself from this downward spiral.

He doesn’t say anything, but from the way he is staring at her, it feels like he has just read her mind, once again. He briefly squeezes her hand, then stands up with a sigh and she slightly panicks at the thought that he might leave her alone when she needs him so badly, but he casually sits besides her, so close that they their shoulders brush and the only thing she can think of is that she wants his hand back on hers.

“Tell me about him...”, he says, bringing her back to the reality. “Who is he ? Why is he so important to you that you were willing to put your life on the line for him ? That you compromise yourself with me?”

“Well, this is Max...”

“Ok...”

“I told you about my whole life. I must have said something about him?”

“No, you never did.”

She pauses, unsure what to infer from that information. He is staring at her intensely and she has to look away to gather her thoughts. She never really wondered about Max. He was there, and that was enough. But now, the words are coming to her, as if they had been waiting there forever, deep inside her, patiently waiting to be expressed.

“Well, Max is one I’ve known forever... One who always believed in me... when no one else did. Together... we’ve been through... a lot. We’ve lost.. many people in very... traumatic circumstances. He was the onetalking to me on the phone in Moscow, when you found me at the station. He was with me...until the last second.”

She pauses and looks up at him, to gauge his reaction, but if he too, is thinking about _that_ moment, he doesn’t show it. He remains silent and composed, waiting for her to carry on.

“I think... I think he might be my only friend.” she concludes, realizing as she is formulating it how both comforting and sad it is.

“Yeah...”, he nods thoughtfully, crossing his legs. “I guess that’s what they call a friend... He offered me a deal to protect you from me, can you believe that?”, he says, a wry smile on his lips.

She shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Well, this is Max. He would do anything for me. Absolutely anything. Wherever I’d go, he’d… he’d end up there, by my side, never asking anything in return.

And the reason why I never mentioned him... is that I took him for granted. I used him all these years... because that’s what I do. I use them and then... they die...”

She looks up at him, her epiphany hitting her face.

“...because of me ...” she croaks brokenly, as an intense, profound weariness suddenly sweeps over her. Sobs are rising up inside her, violent and uncontrollable, so when she feels his hand on her back, she no longer resist. She doesn't know which one of them makes the first move, but a second later she crashes against his chest, clutching him desperately while she feel his hands running through her hair, her neck, her back - his way of telling her that he is here, with her, that with him, she can pour her whole heart out, without shame, without fear of being judged. And it feels good. It feels right. And she doesn’t care if she probably shouldn’t feel that way. He is here for her when no one else is, and this is all what she needs.

“I’m so tired...” she sobs, her face buried in the collar of his jacket... I’m so tired of it all...”

“I know...”, he whispers in her hair, “I know...”

She huddles closer against him and he tightens his embrace, too. There is nothing she wants more than to feel him against her, to nestle... so she lets herself being lulled by his warmth, by his soothing hands as her sobs gradually fade away in the silence of night.

When she starts shivering, he grabs a blanket from the trunk and wraps it tightly around her, then passes an arm around her shoulders and hold her tight against him. She simply leans her head on his shoulder and he rests his chin on the top of her head, and they both remain still, breathing in the quietness of the moment.

With him, she feels safe, safer than she's felt in a long time and nothing else matters anymore...

*

*

*

“Carrie...” There is a voice whispering her name, and a warm breeze grazing her face, while what might be the back of a hand is lightly brushing her cheek.

“Carrie...”

She must have dozed off on his shoulder and she raises her head sleepily, slowly pulling herself out of the safe and warm haven that is the hollow of his neck.

“Sorry...I...”, she apologises, disentangling herself from him, suddenly aware of the pitiful sight she must be offering him.

“You should lie down and get some sleep...”, he says in a low voice, concern all over his face. Their faces are still close and he furtively wipes away a half-dried tear on her cheek with his thumb, before withdrawing his hand, suddenly aware of the intimacy of his gesture. The sensation of his touch lingers on her skin for a few seconds and she has to make a conscious effort to get out of the state of dizziness that this ridiculously small contact has put her into.

“...You can have the other car’s back seat if you want” he goes on, letting go of her. “I’ll check on Max during the night...”

“No, the trunk will do. I’ll stay with Max.”, she says, suddenly realizing how cold it feels, to be away from him. She doesn't want him to go and there's a fleeting moment when she catches the same longing in his eyes, telling her that he doesn't want to leave her either.

But he finally stands up, and she takes the opportunity to retreat in the trunk, crawling through a mess of various items. She gathers some clothes and lies down on that makeshift pillow, huddling in her blanket with a sigh.

“You’ll be ok ?”, he asks, bending over her from outside the car.

“Yeah...” she forces herself to give him a quick smile, fighting the urge to beg him to stay with her.

“I’ll be right there, keeping watch with my guys. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Okay...”

“Good night, then.”

“Yevgeny?”

He turns around.

“Thank you.”, she just says, her voice wavering with emotion.

He carelessly shrugs his shoulders as if it were nothing, all those big and small things he did for her...

“I mean... for everything... for saving the day... For saving my life, once again...”

He nods and smiles to her and she thinks he's going to leave for good, but he takes a step towards her, leans against the car door and stares at her for a few seconds from above, hesitating. There is an glimmer in his eyes showing through the dark that hits her straight into her guts, as she holds her breath, quivering with expectation.

“He’s right, you know...”, he finally says.

“Who is?”

“Max... You really need someone to take care of you.”

***

“Carrie?”

“Max, you’re awake ? Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Silence. He could swear he heard her gulping hard.

“Did you hear...?” she asks, hesitant.

“I did...”

Silence.

“Max, this is not...it’s...” 

“Complicated?”

“Yeah. Complicated.”

“Ok, Carrie, but...”

“What ?”

“Don’t trust him, Carrie. Don’t trust him”, he mumbles before drifting back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s all folks! 🌟  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this short story as much as I enjoyed writing it !  
> In case you're wondering, what happens next for these characters is what you saw at the end of ep.8, except that Max is still alive when he boards the helicopter of course!  
> However, let me know if you want this alternative version to go on, as I might consider extending the adventures of Carrie, Yevgeny and Max in the future!  
> Again, thank you for reading, and take care !  
> 😘


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